


The Night Of

by SomewhatIneptDivinity



Category: The Old Guard (Comics), The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: But canon-typical gore, Canon Queer Character of Color, Canon Relationships, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Frottage, Immortal Husbands Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, M/M, Mild Gore, Mutual Masturbation, Protective Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, Shower Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-19
Updated: 2020-08-19
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:07:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25998754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SomewhatIneptDivinity/pseuds/SomewhatIneptDivinity
Summary: The night after the battle at the Merrick building finds the immortals laying low at a safe house at the edge of London. While they rest up and wait to debate Booker's fate, Nicky and Joe turn to each other for comfort (and little more) in the shower. Translations in the notes.
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 3
Kudos: 177





	The Night Of

The adrenaline that had surged through Nicky during the battle at the Merrick building had soured by the time that they reached the hideout. It was yet another ancient house, somehow forgotten by time at the edge of the city. They went there because Booker already knew about it and because they didn't know what to do about Booker, not yet. But they were all hurt (Andy especially) and tired and unsure of what to do next. They needed to rest before they made any big decisions. At least that's what Andy had said, but Nicky could feel it all bearing down on him, on them. That was the thing about immortality that surprised him the most—the weight.

The house was better equipped than most, Nicky knew just by glancing around. He suspected that Andy had spent some of her rare down-time bringing it up-to-date. Whatever else she had done to it, it still presented all of the hallmarks of a place that had been abandoned and left behind. The door still creaked with protest when they opened it despite that the knobs had been changed out, the plaster walls were still cold despite the fact that they no longer had any holes. Still, the air tasted stale. Still, the shades were drawn and the furniture covered with sheets.

Andy stalked through the first room and made her way deeper into the house, checking the perimeters. Booker turned and sat heavily in one of the sheet-covered chairs, dropping his face down heavy into his hands. Something like sympathy flashed in Nile's eyes as she watched him, standing awkwardly by the door with Nicky and Joe.

But Joe moved away quickly, a gun cradled in his hand. Nicky knew he was talking about Booker when he growled, "Keep an eye on him." He could feel the tension in Joe's body when he edged past them, heading for the staircase leading up. Nicky watched him head up, carefully evaluating his husband's demeanor. He was still covered in blood and gore—they all were—and his muscles were still tight with fury. He had the gun leveled in front of him. The pit of Nicky's stomach felt hollow.

"What is he gonna do? Run away?" Nile muttered, a tinge of sarcasm bleeding through.

Nicky wanted to smile at her, tried to, but it wouldn't come. She didn't feel the same weight from Booker's betrayal that the rest of them did. She didn't know the depth of Joe's hatred or the sour knot that was tying itself at the center of Nicky's being.

Booker spoke before Nicky could come to Joe's defense. "You shouldn't try to come to my aid, kid. They have every right not to trust me."

Nicky didn't like the self-reproach in Booker's voice. Part of him didn't think that he had earned it. Of course, he wasn't as furious as Joe was, but he certainly wasn't ready to watch him wallow in pity for a decision he had made freely. "You're right. We do."

He caught Nile's eye, who nodded and straightened her back. She wore it well. Blood bloomed across her clothes, tissue was matted in her hair, yet she stood resolute, jaw tightened against it all. But the hardness didn't reach her eyes. There lay something more, something kind that wanted to absolve Booker's sins, to ease all their suffering. Nicky approved of this new one, but he wasn't sure he was ready to forgive.

"Back rooms are clear and so's the garden." Andy walked back into the room like a force. "Joe checking upstairs?"

Nicky nodded. Andy tucked the gun into the back of her pants, not exactly wincing from the pain of her shoulder and her belly when she did. "We all need to get cleaned up and rested before we do anything else. Nile and I will keep first guard, then you and Joe'll take over."

Nicky noticed the way she didn't let her eyes settle on Booker, even though she was moving to a spot to sit in the room. "But you were hurt. You should rest first." He said.

"So what? You two were tortured. It's you two first." Bossing them around was one of the rare ways Andy showed her protectiveness of them.

"Yes, and we healed, Andy. Can you say the same?" Joe's voice came from the stairwell. There was an edge to it, sharp as a scimitar. Unconsciously, Nicky stepped closer to him.

"That's not the point and you know it, Joe." Andy's eyes went dark.

"How about I just keep a watch and you _all_ rest?" Nile said. She was trying to keep the peace. More than that, she was trying to prove that she could be trusted. Nicky's heart warmed just a little.

"No, no, _cucciola_. Thank you, but we should keep watch in teams for now. Andy, are you sure this is what you want?" Nicky asked. He took another step toward Joe, putting a hand on his arm and squeezing lightly. The tension in him did not dissipate, but Nicky felt it soften. It was barely enough to notice.

"Yeah. It's cleaner this way." Andy said.

"Will you at least allow me to tend your wounds first?" Nicky asked. When Andy nodded, he looked at his newest comrade. "Nile, do you think you could go get us all something to eat? There are a few places up the street from what I remember."

"Yeah, sure." She hesitated, probably feeling like she had been relegated to the role of errand girl.

"Thank you. I think you have the least amount of gore on you and we haven't eaten a thing for two days." He smiled at her, trying to reassure her.

"'Course. Anything in particular?" She asked while looking down at her clothes. She zipped up her green jacket, which covered the worst of the stains.

"None of us are very picky anymore. Just whatever you can manage."

"Sure thing." Nile said and turned to go.

"Cash only, kid." Andy said from across the room.

"Oh, uhhh…" She paused. She looked at them all and grimaced. "I don't have any that'll work here."

The rest reached for their wallets, scrambling for the few British pound notes they had amongst them, frustrated that London no longer honored the Euro. Booker stood from his seat and produced a fifty-pound note, handing it over without a word before sitting back down. Of course he had local money on him. Nicky could feel Joe's anger grow.

An hour later and Nicky was finishing up with Andy in the kitchen. It was a withered old room, but it had running water and a table large enough for him to lay Andy back and access the worst of her wounds. He'd scrubbed up more thoroughly than was strictly necessary, but the fear of infection was more real than ever. Andy's body couldn't simply purge her of it if some rogue bacteria decided to take hold. Even though Andy had left a cache of supplies at the house, Nicky had to resort to whatever he could find around to suffice for his task. He didn't blame her for not keeping a proper first-aid kit there—she couldn't have known it would be needed. So, he cleaned her wounds with alcohol, stitched her with sanitized fishing line, and packed it with linen. They would have to get better materials before they could change it out again. Andy never flinched while he saw to the work—after all this time, she could certainly handle the pain.

Nile returned with food and they all ate it mechanically, barely registering the flavor, the _kind_ , in their malaise. After he was done with Andy, all Nicky could pay attention to was the man sitting next to him. The tension in his body seemed to spread, filling the entire room around them. Andy was sitting near the front door, deep in though. Nile was hunched in another sheet-covered chair, avoiding looking at anyone. Booker had settled into a despair the like of which Nicky had only witnessed a few times in his long life. That look made something stir in Nicky's chest.

Nicky finally stood up, leaving some of the food at the bottom of his takeout container, despite his lingering hunger. He needed to get away from this coiling pain that threatened to strangle them all. None of it would stop until they finally made a decision about Booker, until they knew what to do next. And none of that would happen until tomorrow. He only had until then to ease some of Joe's anger and to soothe some of his own hurt. Maybe then, he could summon some of Nile's easy forgiveness. He offered his hand to the man sitting next to him. "Come Joe, we should rest."

The hand that took his was calloused and gentle and strong. It fit into his own as though it were made to be there. Nicky started toward the staircase, memory driving him upstairs for refuge from the terrible feelings nested in the front room.

"'Night, boys." Andy chimed from her seat.

"Yeah, good night." Nile said, face snapping up from where it had been drooping. She seemed relieved that something, anything, had broken up the silence.

Joe remained silent at his side.

" _Bueno sera_ ," Nicky responded. "We'll be back down in a few hours."

The house was surprisingly quiet for its age, which unsettled Nicky just a little. Something this old shouldn't be so agreeable. He should know. He squeezed Joe's hand. The second floor was nicer than he remembered. The walls were no longer covered in peeling wallpaper, the windows unblemished with mildew. Nicky turned for one of the little bedrooms, unconsciously going for the one closest to the back of the building. All the better to escape if they were attacked.

"No, we're this one." Joe pulled his hand a different way, his voice was more level than it had been since they'd left Merrick, but Nicky knew better. He was trying to calm himself now that they were alone but his anger had gone nowhere.

"What?" Nicky asked. He looked over at the other man, their arms stretched long between them as though they were just one continuous being. And of course they were.

"We're staying in the other room, Nicolò. Our stuff is already in there." Joe pulled gently. His face was carefully constructed; he didn't want Nicky to know what he was thinking.

"Why? Wait, what stuff?" Nicolò asked, stepping toward his Yusuf in the darkened building.

"When we stayed here last, you said you loved the room we were in, so I put what we had with us in there. It's mostly just guns."

Nodding, Nicolò followed after his husband, failing to recall whatever the appeal of the room had been until they actually walked into it. Immediately the familiarity of the space settled back into Nicky's mind when he saw it. The bed was tucked back against one wall and on the opposite was a dormant fireplace. The window had a seat underneath it that immediately jogged a memory of Nicolò and Yusuf cuddled together and reading on a rare evening off duty. It had been raining and they had lit a fire in the fireplace. Of course, the book had been forgotten, set aside to occupy their attention another way in the luxury of their time together. The memory came back to him so vividly that it made his skin prickle. But that had been so long ago.

"You surprise me that you remember, _caro mio_." Nicky closed the door behind them and stepped closer to Yusuf.

"Of course I remember, Nicolò." Yusuf said, their solitude honing down some of the sharpness in his voice. He pulled Nicky close to him, eyes searching his face. "Why would I not remember your happiness?"

Blood caked Yusuf's hair and dried patches of it speckled across his face. He smelled like sweat and iron. There was something in his eyes that made Nicky's throat tighten. "Because _I_ didn't even remember, Yusuf. It was a long time ago." Nicky cupped a hand against his husband's cheek.

"Not so long." Yusuf said.

Nicky laughed, bumping his nose against Yusuf's. "Long enough. Nearly a century."

Yusuf kissed him gently, barely a whisper against his lips. "What's eighty years?"

"Depends on which ones you mean. Some decades have been better than others," Nicky said.

"All of mine have been blessed by having you in them, beloved." Yusuf reached up to run his hand through Nicky's hair, but the tangled mess of blood stopped his fingers before he could make it past his ears.

Nicky shrugged. "We should bathe, _tesoro mio_. I think I still have brain in my hair."

Yusuf grimaced. His eyes went dark and cold as steel and Nicolò regretted his phrasing. The thought it must have put into Joe's head stole the oxygen out of the room. "Yes. We should, _habibi_. But we have to be quick—we need to relieve Andy soon."

Nicky nodded and stepped away. "Of course. Go on ahead. I'll find us some fresh clothes."

Yusuf retreated to the bathroom next door and Nicky wanted to kick himself. The last thing he had wanted to do was remind his husband of what they'd been through. Of the trauma and pain they'd endured because of Booker's betrayal. Nicky heard the water start and committed himself to a plan. His Yusuf needed rest and reassurance. They _both_ did.

Nicky found a neat stack of extra clothes in one of the linen closets. They were yet another one of Andy's down-time additions to the hideout. He shook them out to check for size and bundled them up under his arm. When he stepped into the bathroom, his husband was already standing beneath the water, naked form vaguely obscured by steam. He was struck with another memory of their time in the old house. He could practically feel the tiles pressed against his face, feel Yusuf's teeth on his skin. His cheeks went hot.

Nicky set the new clothes aside by the sink and stripped off the dirty ones he was still wearing. He shouldn't have been surprised by their condition considering all they had gone through earlier that day, but he still was. When he pulled up his shirt, the many patches of blood-splatter from where he'd been shot and cut clung steadfast to his skin, stinging when he ripped them away. The worst was the back of his collar, where the effluvia from the gunshot wound had practically fused the fabric to his neck. Luckily for him, that layer of skin would heal fast after he ripped it away.

Once undressed, Nicky stepped into the little glass enclosure. The interior of the shower was even more familiar than the rest of the house, Nicky's memory of being pressed so close to his husband in its narrow confines more solid than those of the rest of the building. The shower had seemed old even the last time they had been there, but Nicky knew that that couldn't be true. Showers like this were so young, so new. It must have been worn down by overuse and neglect. They all knew something about that.

Yusuf looked Nicolò up and down when he dipped into the shower, stepping back from the stream to let his husband rinse off the worst bits. The break of the water against his skin was an incredible thrill of pleasure after what they'd endured over the past several days. Nicolò let his head fall forward so that the water cascaded down his hair and neck and back. He watched as rust-colored eddies pooled around his feet before swirling away to the drain. Ropes of dark-stained water traced the long lines of Nicolò's body and he waited for them to drain clear before he stepped back to let Yusuf back under the spray.

Unconsciously, they fell into another of their rhythms. Yusuf dispensed a large bead of shampoo into his hand from a bottle that had, presumably, already been in the shower stall and started to work it through Nicky's hair. His fingers were strong and nimble, rubbing small circles back from his temples. Nicky closed his eyes and let himself enjoy the feeling of Joe's hands massaging his scalp, letting him guide his head back under the spray to rinse. When he got to the base of Nicky's head, he paused, fingers hesitating as though afraid of what he might find there. An index finger circled the spot of newly-formed flesh and Nicolò opened his eyes to see Yusuf staring at him, through him. Nicky knew then what it was that had truly destabilized his stalwart husband—that had been Nicolò's first death after the revelation of Andy's mortality.

" _Amore mio_. I am alive. I am not in pain. I am here with you." Nicky leaned in so that their chests were pushed together and pressed his lips to Joe's. He kissed him slowly, luxuriating first in the plushness of his lips before parting them with his tongue. The hands that had been at the back of his head slid down the sides of Nicky's neck and held fast to his shoulders.

Nicolò wrapped his arms around Yusuf's body, holding him tight, and was rewarded by the other man tilting his head to deepen their kiss. Nicolò took the invitation. He drew a low hum from Joe with his clever tongue, letting it explore in a way he hadn't been able to since Morocco. He wondered if Yusuf felt the same longing as his mouth complemented Nicolò's.

Nicky let his hands trace down the curve of Joe's back until he reached the swell of his ass. Taking firm hold of him, Nicky pulled their hips together—the motion forcing Joe to take a small step in order to keep his balance. Nicky's pulse quickened when he felt his half-hard cock press against him. He ground his hips forward, letting their cocks glide together with the wetness of the shower. An involuntary noise came out of Joe and he pulled his face back. He leveled his eyes on Nicky, expression both stern and searching.

"Nicolò, _caro mio_ , we need to rest. Andy—" Nicky cut him off with a kiss, hot and urgent.

" _Per piacere_ , Yusuf, I need you. _Ho bisogno di te._ " Nicky pleaded against his lips. "I need to feel you here. I need to feel you whole."

Yusuf searched his eyes, his body solid against him but unmoving. Nicky let his hands draw back up to the crest of his hips. He nuzzled their noses together. Then Nicky whispered against his husband's lips. " _Min fadlak, habibi_."

Yusuf's mouth crashed into Nicolò's again, this time filled with some passion that the other man had been holding back until that moment. It was like a dam had broken in him and he set forth a deluge of desire that caught Nicky in its sweep. He crowded Nicolò against the shower wall, hitching his hips up against him with a passion that threatened to drown them both. The gentle ministrations of his mouth grew eager and demanding, his now fully-hard cock pressing heavy against Nicolò's body. Slicked up by the water that now rained against their sides, Yusuf frotted against him in long strokes that sent a shudder through Nicolò's body.

His lips dragged down the line of Nicolò's neck, pausing to suck and nip at the sensitive skin above his pulse before tracing his heartbeat down to the hollow of his throat. Nicolò rutted up against Yusuf's cock, reveling in the delicious feeling of skin against skin and trying to keep rhythm with him. But he lost himself somewhere in the sensation of it all, Yusuf's mouth on his, his body trapped between the cold tiles against his back and the warmth of his husband pressed along his front. Thigh to thigh, hearts beating together, Nicky became pliant to Yusuf's passions, grinding when Yusuf's cock beckoned and losing any sense of control to the _want_ pulsing through him.

Yusuf anchored a hand on the wall beside Nicolò's head, shifting his other down to reach between their bodies. He took them together in hand, cock against cock, strong fingers enveloping them both. The pleasure of the pressure, the heat, crackled beneath Nicky's skin. Yusuf tilted his wrist, expertly massaging them together in long, coaxing strokes. A quake of pleasure rumbled through the deep places inside of Nicolò's abdomen. It echoed out through his limbs and threatened to crumble him when Joe's thumb collected a bead of precome from one of them—or maybe both of them—and worked it in a hot stripe down his cock.

Shifting his neck to the side, Nicky looked down to where the long lines of their bodies joined together. His skin prickled as Yusuf's beard scratched against the juncture of his clavicles, sucking bruises back up his neck that started to fade the moment he started a fresh one. His breath was hot against Nicky's skin, the strength in his hand unrelenting. Nicky watched him as he twisted his wrist at the heads of their cocks, hand dancing down their shafts in a motion that made Nicky's breath hitch. Precome collected at the tip of Yusuf's cock and the sight of it made Nicky moan unconsciously.

Yusuf brought his mouth up to the place just below Nicolò's ear and shushed him gently. "We must stay quiet, _tesoro mio_." He took the opportunity to claim his lips again, quieting him by plunging his tongue into Nicky's eager mouth.

Closing his eyes once again, Nicolò gave himself over to the pleasure of his husband's body. Unable to still himself any longer, he fucked up into Yusuf's hand, reveling in the pressure that kept him clasped between Joe's palm and his hard, leaking cock. He shifted one of his own hands up to the back of Joe's head, tangling fingers in hair and inviting him to linger in their kiss. His other hand petted across Joe's hip and his side, feeling the way that the muscle threaded below his skin, reassuring him of Joe's strength of his _wholeness_. All the while, Joe's hand worked up and down their straining cocks, luring them closer and closer to the edge of their desire.

Nicolò could feel it approaching quickly, a vast longing opening up in him and beguiling his senses until all he could feel were the places where his body joined Yusuf's, points hot as firebrands against his skin. He knew he was getting close when his body started to act like a paradox. Nicolò's breath grew more shallow as his heart swelled beyond the boundaries of his skin. His muscles trembled in an attempt to both let go and hold on at once. He could feel everything and nothing and his thoughts skittered away from him as memories flooded his muscles. Nicolò was teetering. All he could concentrate on were the sensations his husband was inducing in him. Yusuf teased the head of his cock with his thumb. Yusuf's hand slid down his length. Yusuf pumped back up, once, twice, again. Yusuf's tongue and Yusuf's hand and Yusuf's body. Yusuf in him, around him, against him. _Yusuf_.

Yusuf hitched his hips forward and fucked against Nicolò's cock in his hand and that was all it took. That simple change in motion and pressure, that simple acknowledgment of Yusuf's desire in the brace of his hips, was enough to send him crashing over the edge and plunging into his release. A thrill flirted up Nicolò's spine and the bottom of his stomach dropped out. His hand tightened, grasping at Yusuf's hair. Nicolò's orgasm shuddered through him, come splattering hot against his skin as the muscles in his abdomen clenched tight.

Yusuf broke off their kiss, looking down as Nicolò came hard against him. He rocked his hips back and forth, tantalizing Nicolò's aching cock with his own as it spasmed with release. He pressed his forehead against Nicolò's and pulled their cocks with a fervor that had Nicolò sobbing in his revelry. " _Sì, amore mio_... _Sì, ti amo, ti amo, ti amo_ …"

The urging strokes of Yusuf's hand slowed suddenly and Nicolò felt his husband's muscles go rigid against him. A low moan rumbled out of him and hot come seeped out of his cock and across Nicolò's. His hips spasmed in a final, victorious thrust that sent a spike of pleasure through the throbbing afterglow of Nicolò's own orgasm. Yusuf's cock twitched eagerly as his come continued to sputter out of him, lower abdomen tightening and releasing under Nicolò's hand with each new swell at his tip.

Bodies ragged and heavy, they stood still for a long moment as the space between their breaths stretched out. Finally, Nicky reached up and looped his arms up around Joe's shoulders, drawing them together tightly enough that the space that delineated where Nicky ended and where Joe began started to blur. Joe's arms came around Nicky's chest and he held him fast, burying his face in Nicky's shoulder. They swayed under the showerhead, their heartbeats a syncopated relay that chased through them. Thoughts of anything but Joe scattered away and for the first time in many days they simply _were_.

It was then that Yusuf finally let out a mournful sob. It was a low, terrible thing that moved through them both, speaking the pain of Booker's betrayal, of Andy's mortality, of their torture. Nicolò wouldn't cry, not just yet. It would take him days at least to begin his own mourning, but Yusuf had always been more immediate with his emotions. He kept his sorrows in the same place he kept all of his feelings—just below the surface of his skin. Nicolò ran his fingers through Yusuf's hair, kissed his neck as he let out his pain. He held him close and whispered gently in his ear. " _Sono qui, amore mio, sono qui._ "

Nicky couldn't be sure which of them moved away first, but it was Joe who adjusted the tap when they realized the water had started to go cold against their skin. They stayed close while they finished their shower, touching always while they scrubbed and rinsed and massaged the horrors of that morning away.

When they tucked into bed at last, Nicky faced the door, placing himself between the rest of the world and his husband. He pulled Joe's arms tightly around him and tangled their fingers together. Joe nuzzled into the back of his neck and Nicky knew that no matter what tomorrow brought, they would survive so long as they were together.

**Author's Note:**

> Translations:
> 
> Italian:  
>  _bueno sera_ =good night  
>  _cucciola_ =puppy/pet  
>  _caro mio_ =my dear  
>  _tesoro mio_ =my treasure  
>  _amore mio_ =my love  
>  _per piacere_ =please  
>  _Ho bisogno di te_ =I need you  
>  _Si_ =yes  
>  _ti amo_ =I love you
> 
> Arabic  
>  _habibi_ =beloved  
>  _Min fadlak_ =Please


End file.
